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presence during their palmy days of friendship, and so avoided being recognised by his
natural stench. It is Home -- the medium, a convert to Roman Catholicism, then to
Protestantism, and finally to the Greek Church. He is the bitterest and most cruel enemy
O. and Mad. B. have, though he has never met either of them. For a certain time he
succeeded in poisoning the Lord's mind, and prejudiced him against them. I do not like
saying anything behind a man's back, for it looks like back-biting. Yet in view of some
future events I feel it my duty to warn you, for this one is an exceptionally bad man --
hated by the Spiritualists and mediums as much as he is despised by those -- who have
learned to know him. Yours is a work which clashes directly with his. Though a poor
sickly cripple, a paralysed wretch, his mental faculties are as fresh and as alive as ever to
mischief. He is no man to stop before a slanderous accusation -- however vile and lying.
So -- beware.
K. H.
FOOTNOTE:
1. So, at least, Mrs. S. says; I myself did not search the crockery shops; so too, the bottle
filled with water I filled with my own hand -- was one of the four only that the servants
had in the baskets, and these four bottles had but just been brought back empty by these
peons from their fruitless search after water, when you sent them to the little brewery
with a note. Hoping to be excused for the interference and with my most respectful
regards to the lady.
Yours, etc.
The "Disinherited" (return to text)
The Mahatma Letters to A. P. Sinnett
Theosophical University Press Edition
Letter No. 9
From K.H., first letter received on return to India, July 8th, 1881, while
staying with Madame B. at Bombay for a few days.
Welcome good friend and brilliant author, welcome back! Your letter at hand, and I am
happy to see your personal experience with the "Elect" of London proved so successful.
But, I foresee, that more than ever now, you will become an incarnate note of
interrogation. Beware! If your questions are found premature by the powers that be,
instead of receiving my answers in their pristine purity you may find them transformed
into yards of drivel. I am too far gone to feel a hand on my throat whenever trenching on
the limits of forbidden topics; not enough to avoid feeling myself -- uncomfortably so --
like a worm of yesterday before our "Rock of Ages." My Cho-Khan. We must all be
blindfolded before we can pass onward; or else, we have to remain outside.
And now, what about the book? Le quart d'heure de Rabelais is striking, and, finds me, if
not quite insolvent, yet quasitrembling at the idea that the first instalment offered may be
found below the mark; the price claimed -- inadequate with my poor resources; myself
led pro bono publico to trespass beyond the terrible -- "hitherto shalt thou go, and no
further," and the angry wave of the Cho-Khan's wrath swamping me blue ink and all! I
fondly hope you will not make me lose "my situation."
Quite so. For, I have a dim notion that you will be very impatient with me. I have a very
clear notion that you need not be. It is one of the unfortunate necessities of life that
imperial needs do sometimes force one apparently to ignore the claims of friendship, not
to violate one's word, but to put off and lay aside for a while the too impatient
expectations of neophytes as of inferior importance. One such need that I call imperial is
the need of your future welfare; the realization of the dream dreamt by you in company
with S.M. That dream -- shall we call it a vision? -- was, that you, and Mrs. K. -- why
forget the Theos. Soc.? -- "are all parts of a large plan for the manifestations of occult
philosophy to the world." Yes; the time must come, and it is not far -- when all of you
will comprehend aright the apparently contradictory phases of such manifestations;
forced by the evidence to reconcile them. The case not being so at present, meanwhile --
remember: it is because we are playing a risky game and the stakes are human souls that I
ask you to possess yours in patience. Bearing in mind that I have to look after your
"Soul" and mine too, I propose to do so at whatever cost, even at the risk of being
misunderstood by you as I was by Mr. Hume. The work is made the more difficult by my
being a lonely labourer in the field, and that, as long as I fail to prove to my superiors that
you, at least -- mean business; that you -- are in right good earnest. As I am refused
higher help, so will you fail to easily find help in that Society in which you move, and
which you try to move. Nor will you find, for a certain time much joy in those directly
concerned. Our old lady is weak and her nerves are worked to a fiddle string; so is her
jaded brain. H.S.O. is far away -- in exile -- fighting his way back to salvation --
compromised more than you imagine by his Simla indiscretions -- and establishing
theosoph. schools. Mr. Hume -- who once promised to become a champion fighter in that
Battle of Light against Darkness -- now preserves a kind of armed neutrality wondrous to
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